Playing With Fire
by dollsom
Summary: Meg is the one who finds Castiel when he walks out of the lake. After that, they're moths to each other's flames.


**Summary:** Meg is the one who finds Cas when he walks out of the lake.  
**Characters/Ships:** Castiel/Meg  
**Spoilers:** I guess you should know what happens in seasons 6 and 7 to know what's going on. But no spoilers, really.  
**Warnings:** There is a bit of rough sex, but it's consensual and _very_ non-explicit.  
**Disclaimer:** Not my property, and I make no profit from this.  
**Reviews:** Pretty please?

* * *

"You're different from all these people," Castiel says. "Fundamentally so."

"We both are, remember?"

Meg dressed Castiel in denim and leather, so he doesn't seem out of place at her side. To the humans around them, they both look like they belong on this crowded city street. It's disconcerting to remember that, to the eyes that matter, the two of them are easy to find.

"Because you're a demon?"

"Uh huh."

"And I'm an angel."

"Yep."

She turns down an alleyway, headed for a run-down part of town and hopefully an abandoned apartment to hole up in. Castiel stops.

"So why aren't we enemies?"

_Ah_. She'd been wondering when he'd get there.

Meg turns to face him. "Normally we are. But right now? You're the best friend I've got."

"You're using me," Castiel says, and it's a statement, not an accusation.

"You got a problem with it, you're free to leave," she tells him, because really, helping the guy is a gamble anyways, and she's not about to make her odds worse by holding an angel against his will.

Castiel stares at some graffiti contemplatively, and when he meets her eyes again, Meg knows his answer.

"You won't. 'Cause you don't know what's waiting for you out in that big bad world." She steps closer to him. "You see? I can be your best friend too."

* * *

What Meg hates most about being on the run is that it requires discretion. She wants havoc. She wants violence and destruction and sex and sin, and her want is a slow burn at the back of her mind.

She sits in the bedroom of a forclosed-on house, making hex bags, _wanting_. Castiel finishes painting symbols on the walls, and rolls his sleeve down over the quickly-healing gash in his arm. He remembered the protection sigils a few days ago, along with other bits and pieces. Nothing recent, and nothing huge, but enough to make him want to know more.

He sits on the bed as Meg rises to plant the hex bags around the room.

"You're not going to tell me what happened?" Castiel asks, and Meg's getting sick of the question.

"Would you believe me if I did?"

"No."

The lack of trust sets Meg on-edge, but it's good to know that at least she's not stuck with a total innocent.

"Good boy," she says, and reaches out to pat him on the head as she passes.

Castiel catches her by the wrist and tugs, tilting his head to press his lips against hers. It's hard and fast, and then he looks at Meg like he can see every thought in her head.

_No, not innocent at all._

* * *

Two of Crowley's mooks eventually do track them down. Castiel senses their presence before Meg even knows they're there, burns them out of their meatsuits before she has a chance to react.

"Knew I kept you around for a reason," Meg says.

Castiel doesn't answer, just stares at her. His eyes are narrowed, evaluating. Meg doesn't like it.

"Just, next time, keep one alive for questioning," she says, like she's the one calling the shots. "'Kay?"

He nods.

"I remember The Fall," Castiel tells her later. He hasn't stopped staring like he's a scientist and Meg is a new species. Like things are different now.

"Great," Meg replies. "Tell me when you remember something useful."

Meg knows that she's riding a fire whirl just being with Castiel, that at any moment she could be thrown off and burned away. A part of her thrills at the challenge. Another part of her is reminded of Lucifer, and sometimes when she closes her eyes she can imagine that other, much greater and more glorious angel, is at her side. She never tells Castiel this, because while there is a third part of her, the part that will always belong to Hell no matter how many times she crawls out, that aches to feel the lick of flames, that part isn't so strong.

* * *

During the chaos of Castiel's rule, there were some angels who fled to Earth. Then they realized that the New God spent more time there than upstairs and hightailed it back; but not before talking to a few Pagan Gods, who talked to a few demons, who kept the rumours circulating. Meg knows the stories, and knows that the surviving angels have washed their hands of Earth and the human race.

So it's a shock when Meg sees an angel just across the street, wearing a young woman and playing a guitar for change.

"We should run." Meg doesn't bother to hide the anxiety in her voice.

The angel sees them, puts her instrument in its case, and leaves it behind as she walks up the steps of a nearby church.

Meg's relief is short lived, as Castiel crosses the street towards the church, ignoring her protests.

Meg hesitates. Then she follows, not stopping to think whether it is convoluted self-interest or addiction to the fire whirl that drives her forward. She'll find some way to rationalize her actions if she survives.

She passes through the doors of the church, and feels the low, throbbing burn that comes with setting foot on hallowed ground flood her being. The church is empty, shadows clinging to peaked ceiling and the transcepts. The unknown angel stands in the centre of the nave, facing the alter. Castiel is walking slowly up the aisle towards her. Meg would shout another warning if she thought it would do any good.

"You are my sister," Castiel says when he's only a few feet away.

The other angel bows her head. "Your executioner."

She spins around and charges Castiel, knocking him flat on his back. She pins him with a knee on his chest, and raises her blade.

Meg tackles the angel. They roll over one another, struggling for dominance. The angel is stronger, and is soon looming over Meg, bringing her hand to the demon's forehead.

_That was stupid_, is Meg's last thought.

Except that it isn't her last thought. There's a flash of light, and Castiel is standing over her, angel blade in hand, a dead vessel at his feet.

"Nice timing." Meg gets up and brushes herself off. "You're welcome for saving your ass, by the way."

She glances at Castiel to see that he hasn't moved. His eyes are fixed on the angel blade. Meg notices that he's shivering.

"I remember heaven," he grinds out, like it's too much effort to speak. "The things I did there. I did... terrible things."

"That sounds 'bout right." Meg crosses her arms, and waits to see how Castiel will react.

His gaze slides up to meet hers, searching and vulnerable. "Does this make me a creature like you?"

Meg is tempted to say yes, and claim him as her own. It would be a power rush. But she knows a thing or two about Castiel at this point, knows that it would break him. And she doesn't need a broken angel. Doesn't _want_ him like that either, she realizes.

She shrugs. "Matter of perspective." Castiel's gaze is no less searching. Meg sighs. "I think it's still up to you." And that's as comforting as she's going to get. The hallowed ground is really starting to burn, and she's losing patience with the angel's existential crisis.

Castiel's gaze returns to the angel blade. His face twists in disgust and he casts the blade to the ground. Its clattering echoes off the stone walls of the church. He stalks away.

Meg picks up the blade, and tucks it away in her jacket.

* * *

The more Castiel remembers, the rougher he gets. Meg likes it. He pushes her and pins her and digs his fingers into her flesh, punishes her, takes her to her limit, until Meg thinks that this is it, this will be the day that he throws her off and burns her away. Then she pushes back. She claws at him and forces him down, and Meg knows the strength of angels, knows that Castiel is letting her do this. Castiel loses himself underneath Meg, as if it will help him forget again. Even though Meg knows that she only overpowers him because he lets her, it still feels like she's won.

* * *

"Castiel. Almost didn't recognize you. Not exactly the shining beacon of purity you used to be."

Crowley sounds smug, but Meg can hear the wariness underneath, wondering why the angel is back, and why he's here. Meg surpresses a laugh, because Crowley thinks that Castiel is the worst of his problems. She sneaks around the perimeter of the darkened ballroom of Crowley's mansion (he's always liked swanky digs, but this one takes the cake). She moves silently but with quick confidence, knowing that Castiel is sheilding her presence from her enemy.

"Guess all those souls didn't agree with you."

Meg is approaching Crowley from behind, and she can see the bitter curve of Catiel's lips, the cold glint in his eyes. _If Crowley is as smart as he thinks he is, he'd run right now_, she thinks.

"Why're you smiling?" he asks instead.

"Because," the angel's smile twists into a sneer. "I remember you."

Meg pounces, driving the angel blade through Crowley's throat. She withdraws it, and he falls to his knees. Meg circles around to face him because she _has_ to see the look on his face.

Shock. Realization. Seething hatred. _Very satisfying_.

The demon's death throes are lighting up the possessed man's skin, but Meg plunges the blade through his heart just to be certain. "Buh-bye, sugar," she smiles sweetly. No witty retort this time. She pushes the corpse off the blade with her foot.

"Well done," she hears Castiel say behind her.

"Couldn't have done it without you," she answers, overly cool. She cleans the blade on her sleeve, and sticks it in her belt.

Castiel remembers Crowley now. Another gaping hole in his memory filled. Meg wonders what else he remembers, and if it's enough to make him want her dead.

"How much-"

"Everything."

Meg swallows. _I should run right now._ Instead she turns to face him. "So I guess you won't be needing me anymore, huh?"

"We've been through much together," Castiel says, calm and unreadable. "Now the throne of Hell is yours. And I know my sins, and that I must do penance."

There's enough of a threat in that statement for Meg. She's about to spirit herself off, but then Castiel is only inches away, his hand cupping her cheek. The gesture is tender, but it also holds her in her borrowed flesh.

_This is it, then. It's been a fun ride._

Meg decides that she's not going to be thrown into the fire. She's going to dive.

She clutches Castiel's face and pulls his lips down to meet hers. She kisses him hard and hungry, pressing into him, wanting to find the part of him that will burn Hell out of her and swallow it, wanting to find the creature that wrought destruction on Heaven and Earth and make love to it. Meg wants all the goodness that she should be afraid to touch and all the violence that she craves: everything Castiel is. She soon realizes that he's kissing her back, ferociously, biting her lips and drawing blood, holding her so tightly against him that she's lifted off her feet.

Castiel wrenches himself away, dropping Meg on her feet, and she stumbles but doesn't fall. He grips her shoulder and holds her in place at arms length, pressing his other hand against her forehead. His eyes burn with anger and his face is taught with fear, and Meg understands: Castiel wants to lose himself in the fires of hell; he longs for the freedom of curling black smoke. She feels like she's won. Meg closes her eyes and braces herself.

But the searing light never comes. She feels Castiel release her. She opens her eyes and sees that he's backed away several paces. His lips are slightly parted, and his eyes are narrowed, studying her.

"You still have my blade," he tells her in a measured voice.

Meg blinks. She feels the knife at her hip, and shakes her head. "Well, now I just feel stupid." Saying it like it's a joke takes the edge off the truth. "You didn't take it from me," she adds, wondering what the angel's getting at.

Castiel's eyes flit away uneasily. "I'm done with slaying my brethren. Besides," he meets her gaze, "you won't cross me or mine." It's not a question or a threat, just a statement of fact.

Meg holds the angel's gaze. A sly smile spreads across her face. She says nothing.

Castiel's lips curve ever so slightly upwards. He nods, knowingly.

"Y'know, if things don't work out for you on Earth, there'll always be a place for you in Hell," Meg says with a grin.

Castiel's expression hardens, his look becomes a glare. There is a rustle of feathers, and he's gone.

"Good luck," she adds. She doesn't mean it.


End file.
